


Common Tongue

by disoriented_writing



Category: Murder in the Alps
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M, NSFW, anna myers is a goddess change my mind, basically......, i really just wanted walter to channel hozier vibes tbh, short and sweet, walter would be great on his knees thanks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-03
Updated: 2019-08-03
Packaged: 2020-07-30 12:20:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20097139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/disoriented_writing/pseuds/disoriented_writing
Summary: It's a little like praying, this is.





	Common Tongue

It’s a little like praying, this is. 

His priest back home would be scandalized by the thought, but it  _ is _ . What is praying, if not expressing thanks and requests to an object of worship? What is  _ worship _ , if not reverence and adoration for some deity? 

Who is Anna Myers, if not a goddess in her own right? And who would Walter McCain be if he were not allowed to fall to his knees for her, to offer his body in some sweet servitude?

...Okay, that might be a little dramatic. It’s meant in good faith, truly — it certainly  _ feels _ like prayer, with his mouth pressing thanks into the tender skin at her inner thigh. It feels like a miracle, to be allowed this.

_ This _ , her sitting, perched at the edge of the plushest chair in the house, one hand clutching tightly to the arm and the other —

_ This _ , wrapped tight in his messy hair, tugging softly, trying so very hard to be gentle with her nails (though Walter does not mind, no, he absolutely doesn’t) —

_ This _ , her legs draped around his shoulders, ankles pressing into the middle of his back, involuntarily squeezing her thighs around his head when she loses sense of herself —

_ This _ , his face buried against her skin, tasting salt and ichor, tasting desperation and desire, and he’s drunk on it, drunk on her, heady and warm and buzzing with need.

She whimpers, soft and sweet and  _ lovely, lovely _ . He smiles against her, lavishing her with his mouth as best he can to the movement of her hips. 

“Walter —” she murmurs, high and thready, voice trembling harder than her thighs around his face. He hums into her to watch her shiver, and slips his fingers inside her warmth, curls them gently until her mouth drops open again.

“I do love how you say my name,” he notes, and he can’t help but be just a little cheeky, can’t help but to tease her just a little. Her fingers tighten in his hair, a sweet scolding for using his mouth for things besides making her shake.

“Mind yourself, darling,” and her tone would be intimidating, if she weren’t twitching so desperately in his palms, if it weren’t all breath and whine. 

He presses a kiss of apology into the inside of her thigh, anyway, and refrains from asking what, exactly, would be the consequences if he  _ didn’t _ .

**Author's Note:**

> this is something i never finished writing but i like it better like it is now so lmao and i oop --  
i hope you enjoyed! i think this might be the first work in this fandom on ao3 so if you liked this please play Murder in the Alps! It's a fantastic game and I eagerly await the next update.  
Thank you!


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